Neighborhood Nature Encounters
Category: Nature...
Posted Wednesday, July 02, 2008 at 04:46 PM [GMT-6]

Last week's rain was welcome, but it brought out critters that some folks around here would just as soon stay out of sight. I'm referring specifically to tarantulas, and contrary to this report (which is worth reading if only to add "urticating" to your working vocabulary), those hairy eight-legged freaks are in abundant supply in our neck of the Woodland.

There were two in close proximity of our front door Saturday morning, one right on the threshold (trying to find the doorbell, no doubt; they're quite polite, you know) and another trying to hide under the brick overhang of our front flowerbed. I was curious to see how they'd react to one another, so I herded the porch-dweller (I knew that leather bullwhip from Juarez would come in handy!) over to where the shy one rested. When they came in contact, both froze for a few seconds, and then they mutually agreed to have nothing whatsoever to do with one another. Try as I might, I couldn't get them to even acknowledge each other. So much for the Great West Texas Spider Smackdown of 2008.

Tarantulas look creepy. The ones we have are about 12" in diameter and can achieve speeds of 40 mph on flat ground. They've been known to leap onto unsuspecting bicyclists; they'll tear your ear off if you're not alert. OK, I made most of that up. They're actually harmless – other than causing minor heart attacks by appearing when and where you don't expect them – don't jump, and while they can skitter pretty quickly over terrain, they're usually trying to get away from you. They still give me the creeps, but I won't go out of my way to smush one.

***

This morning, sandwiched between multiple trips to the vet for Abbye's blood glucose tests and a meeting with a client, I managed to squeeze in a 30-minute bike ride through the adjoining neighborhoods, and I spotted the biggest coyote I 've ever seen in these parts. It looked bigger than a German Shepherd and it was wandering in the vacant lots between Solomon Lane and Mockingbird.

It spotted me at the same time I saw it, and broke into that deceptively casual lope unique to coyotes, covering territory faster than you think is possible. (No wonder the Indians thought they were magic personified...or animified.) I figured I'd seen the last of him (or her?) as the animal disappeared over a slight rise.

But I decided to check, just to make sure, so I wheeled around and rode in the general direction he'd headed. Surprisingly, I saw him a couple of blocks ahead, and I attempted to cut off his path to the open fields around Midland Country Club.

I also hauled out the camera that I've started carrying, a very cool little Sony DSC-T300 that my wife gave me for my birthday last week. I looped the lanyard around my left hand, and started the chase.

Again I was surprised by his behavior. Instead of cutting across the field, he stayed in the middle of the street, running a block or two ahead of me, craning his head around occasionally as if to confirm that there really was a strange contraption following him. For my part, I flicked open the camera's lens cover and started shooting one-handed, without looking at the viewfinder, pedaling furiously but not gaining any ground. I was counting on blind luck to get a good shot before he disappeared. I was also counting on blind luck to ensure that I didn't crash into a curb or hit a patch of sand or otherwise find myself in a position unbecoming a bicyclist.

This is the part where I'm supposed to reveal the results of my wild camera waving, right? Umm...well, I got something on "film," although it's hard to tell what it is, and it's certainly not proof that we have the world's largest coyote hanging out in our 'hood. In fact, I did get one quite excellent shot of the sky and some very lovely clouds, and if you stare at the clouds long enough, you might begin to think you see a coyote. Or, perhaps, Wesley Clark. But, that's another story for another day.